


Sick Day

by EddiPoo



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Basically Just Tom Taking Care of You When You Are Sick, Cuddling, Established Relationship, F/M, cuteness, sick day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EddiPoo/pseuds/EddiPoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom comes home after a long flight to find that you have the flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Day

    The bathroom tiles were cold beneath you and it felt wonderful. Your skin was burning up from a fever. You were curled into a tight ball, afraid that if you moved, you would lose last nights dinner. You closed your eyes and tried to sleep, but your eyelids burned and muscles ached, making you completely uncomfortable.

    You had climbed out of bad last night, slowly making your way to the bathroom. Feeling sick you had sat on the floor, leaning against the tub. After a few hours you had laid down on the cool tiles. And now the sun was high in the sky.

    You heard the front door click. Tom was home.

    You had known that his fight was supposed to land this morning, bringing him home to the apartment you shared, but somehow you had hoped that you would be better before then. As if concentrating hard enough might cure you. It was probably just the flu, but you didn’t want Tom to get sick anyway. It wasn’t easy for a man in his line of work to take sick days.

    You didn’t want him to be worried either. You slowly placed your palms on the cool tiles and pushed yourself up into a sitting position.

    You heard him close the closet door where he had hung his coat and then toss his keys on the table by the hall.

    “Anyone home?” he called cheerfully. It had been too long since he had seen you and he couldn’t wait.

    “In here,” you managed.

    By the time Tom walked into the bathroom you were standing.

    “Hi sweetie. I’m glad you made it home alright,” you said a little dryly, “How was the flight?”

    “It was ...fine-- are you okay? You look really pale,” He said concernedly, moving forward to hug you hello. But you stopped him.   

    “No. I don’t want you to get sick,” you said, putting your hands up, “It’s probably just the flu, but still.”

    “I think I’ll take my chances,” he said warmly, and folded you into his arms.

    Tom had been gone for several weeks and it was good to feel him close to you again.

    “You’re burning up,” Tom said, pulling away and looking down at you. But you just pulled him back into a hug, not ready to let go.

    “Yeah, I warned you,” you said closing your eyes, “I think I’ll live though.”

    Tom kept his arms around you but brought one hand to your face, feeling your skin. His cool hand felt good on your hot flesh.

    “How about,” Tom said, whispering in your ear, “We get you back to bed.”

    You groaned into his shirt. You were too tired and didn’t want to lose the support of his arms around you.

    Tom laughed quietly.

    “Fine,” he said, “You leave me no choice.”

    And with that he lifted you into his arms, keeping your arms around his neck and carried you back into the bedroom. He gently lay you down on the bed and tucked you under the covers. You weren’t sure if you wanted them. It always made you frustrated the way that these kinds of illnesses made you want to be warmer and cooler at the same time.

But Tom was way ahead of you. He left the room and came back a while later with an ice pack. He sat on the edge of the bed and handed it to you. You took it from him and placed it on the back of your neck, the condensation from it wetting the pillow beneath you.

“Do you need anything else right now?” Tom asked, brushing your hair out of your face.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, “I’ll probably just go to sleep.”

“Just call me if you want something,” he said and stood from the bed.

“Thank you, Tom,” you said before drifting off to sleep.

Tom kissed the top of your head and quietly left the room.

 

You awoke several times in the next few hours. You were never completely awake, more like half-conscious. Just enough that you knew what was going on around you. Tom unpacked, showered, tossed in a load of laundry, and finished some paperwork, occasionally stopping by the bedroom to check on you. You slept well into the afternoon.

 

When you finally awoke, it was evening. You lay there for several minutes not moving. You still had a fever and it seemed that the only improvement was the fact that you were hungry. That was a good sign. God, you hoped this illness would end soon.

You rolled over and exhaled, then flipped your pillow onto the cold side. The gel in the ice pack was room temperature and you desperately wanted to cool off. You tried to kick the blankets off of you, but your foot became tangled and you didn’t feel like putting out the energy required to unwrap it. So you just lay there, hair disheveled, pajamas twisted awkwardly around you, body lost in a snarl of blankets, staring blankly at the ceiling.

    “I thought I heard you were awake.”

    Tom was at the door and you strained your eyes, trying to look at him without moving your head.

    “You feeling any better darling?” he asked, coming to sit on the bed again.

    “A little,” you replied, “I could use another ice pack though.”

    “I’ll get it for you,” he said and took the melted one from the bed.

    Tom was in the kitchen for several minutes and when he came back he wasn’t only carrying another ice pack. In his hands he held a tray with a bowl of tomato soup, a grilled cheese sandwich, a glass of milk, and a bottle of tylenol.

    “Tom,” you said, your face breaking into a smile, “You didn’t have to do that.”

    “I know,” He said, grinning. “It’s actually been done for a long time. I was just keeping it warm until you woke up.”

    You slowly sat up in bed and Tom put the tray on your lap. He handed you the ice pack and then went back into the kitchen to get a plate of his own, returning to sit cross-legged next to you on the wide bed.

    You took two of the Tylenol and then began slowly spooning the tomato soup into your mouth. Tom tore his grilled cheese sandwich in half and pulled the two halves apart, the cheese stretching between them.

“Mmm. Just how I like it,” you said watching him.

 

Tom asked you what you had done while he had been away.

“I hope you didn’t get to bored without me,” he said with a smile.

You smiled back and told him the little things that he’d missed.

    “Are you home for long?” you asked. You didn’t like when Tom wasn’t away, but you didn’t want to sound too needy or lonely either.

    “Oh, at least a month,” Tom assured, and you smiled.

 

    After the meal, Tom took the dishes back to the kitchen. You lay down again, still feeling achy and feverish. When he came back he asked if you wanted anything else.

    “How about a movie or something?” you asked, “I’m not really tired and maybe it will distract me from how sick I feel.”

    Tom went and got some movies for you to choose from and then switched on the tv on the other side of the room. After inserting the dvd, he kicked off his shoes and changed into an old Avengers t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He crawled into bed and sat under the covers next to you. As the movie started you rolled over and curled up with your head in Tom’s lap. He pulled your hair to the side and began slowly rubbing your back. It was soothing and you soon forgot how sick you were, completely engrossed in the movie and the slow motions of Tom’s hands on your back.

 

    The credits soon rolled across the screen. Tom leaned forward to see if you were still awake. You were.

    He flicked the button on the remote, sending the room into darkness before turning on the soft light on the bedside table. You slowly sat up and both of you repositioned yourselves.

    “Is there anything else you need before I turn out the light?” He asked kindly.

    “No, you’ve taken care of me quite well today,” you said with a smile, “Thanks for that. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep though,” you continued, sighing, “I mean, I feel tired, but also sort of restless and like I just can’t get comfortable.”

Tom didn’t like to see you uncomfortable and you could tell that he was wishing there was something else he could do.

“Come here,” he said, an idea springing into his mind.

He pulled you closer so that your head was resting on his chest. Then he pulled a book from the bedside table and opened the crisp pages, and began reading. With every line, the gentle vibrations from his deep voice and the slow rise and fall of his chest relaxing you until you closed your eyes, concentrating only on the sound of his voice. After a chapter or two,  he rested the open book beside him and bent his neck to kiss the top of your head.

Then he set the book back on the table and turned out the light.

Being sick when Tom was home wasn’t so bad. Besides, you knew you would feel much better in the morning.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to comment and share.
> 
> And might I suggest the perfect epilogue? Trust me on this one.  
> http://eddipoo.tumblr.com/post/79416622543/drea-m95-cagirl9270-thalieth-because
> 
> A podfic for this work is also available! Please see my profile for the link. :)


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